


dive deep

by loneliestfox



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Getting Back Together, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 17:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19010653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneliestfox/pseuds/loneliestfox
Summary: Mark kisses many Not Yukheis before he realises he really just wants Yukhei.





	dive deep

**Author's Note:**

> [i wrote this to lookalike on loop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8E63J9eINIE)

An angst stricken _let’s not go back_ is already at the tippy tip tip of Mark’s tongue when his throat decides to close up on him. Thorns curl around it. He chokes. What comes out instead is something cracked and scratchy. The thorns tighten itself around. It’s unpleasant. He takes a step back from the microphone stand, looks to the side, and coughs. Behind him, laughter.

“You guys are assholes,” Mark sighs, shaking his head. He flops himself down onto the floor and sits cross-legged, slouched. Donghyuck's the first one to stop laughing, his face emerging from behind his keyboards to shoot Mark a wicked grin. Jeno on the drums next, then finally Jaemin, bass, who was already on the floor before. Mark glares and demands, “Can you give me a goddamn break.”

“No,” Donghyuck easily answers. “Are you still hung up—”

Mark lets out a sound of distress from the back of his throat and another bout of laughter comes around and he’s this close to reach out for the stand and throw it across the room. Watch it break into two against the wall. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he settles with burying his face in his palms. And suddenly it’s wet.

 

Mark’s seventeen when he meets eighteen year old Yukhei. Goofy grin, windswept hair, and a heart too big. They share most classes together—music, english, physics—and it’s natural the way they gravitated towards each other in the small, mostly white town of theirs. Maybe this was enough reason why Yukhei and him were never meant to be to begin with. He was just comfortable with Yukhei; he wasn’t _in love_. He was just comfortable. Yeah. Yeah.

“Who are you kidding,” Jaemin says through a mouthful of burger. The lamp hovering over their heads flicker. There’s mustard at the edge of his mouth and Jeno, like clockwork, licks his thumb and wipes it off. Jaemin continues, “Sorry for making you cry by the way. But really if you’re still hung up on him—then, maybe, you know? Talk to him?”

Another flicker. Mark looks up and wonders if it’s broken.

“For closure,” Donghyuck adds and Mark looks at him. The three of them nod.

“I’m not hung—” The way the three of them stare at him added with the flickering lamp light in a diner booth is a little unsettling. Mark pouts. “I’m not hung up on him.”

“Yeah, you’re not,” Jeno agrees, nodding. Despite what’s coming out from his own damned mouth, Mark knows he’s still painfully hung up on the boy who left him nothing but his crushed up heart in his palms a night before their first day of college.

Flicker, flicker.

Mark’s eyes are downcast and it’s not until Donghyuck licks his fingers clean does he realise he has not touched his cheeseburger yet. He takes a bite and chokes on a sob.

The light goes out.

 

Mark types out Yukhei Wong in the search bar for his contacts after three bottles of grape flavoured soju. And in his haste, accidentally swipes over call instead of text and it fucking goes through. He stares and stares and a small hopeful little part in him wishes Yukhei would answer. On the second ring he realises his mistake and clicks end call. He chucks it to the end of his bed and pulls his covers up to the top his head.

The next morning Mark wakes up to three texts. He reaches out for his glasses on his bedside table and slides it on his face. One from Donghyuck (garage at 8 tonight, ok?) and two from Yukhei Wong (Hi! Who's this? / Sorry i missed!)

Fuck.

It’s too early, so Mark doesn’t reply to any texts and heads towards the bathroom.

 

Mark wouldn’t say Yukhei and him dated per se but what they had (had had _had_ ) definitely wasn’t of the friendly sort either. They cuddled, they kissed, they held hands, and Yukhei even almost slipped his hand down Mark’s pants once. An almost because Mark heard the sound of his parents’ car pulling up in the driveway and shoved Yukhei off him.

Yukhei laughed and so did he.

They didn’t date per se, says Mark, but it still hurt when Yukhei held his hand and said sorry, I can’t do this and Mark’s face was pinched. Hurt. He wanted to, desperately wanted to say: can’t do what? What are we doing? Yukhei didn’t kiss him this time around but what’s Yukhei without breaking his fragile little heart even more? He bent down and kissed the corner of Mark’s mouth and okay, he was still knocked out breathless.

Any sane person would’ve just told the person they’ve been in love for almost half a year now that they love them. Maybe if Mark had just fucking pulled Yukhei’s arm back and made him look at him, like really look at him, maybe Mark would be kissing Yukhei underneath him right now and not fucking Woojin Park from Accounting. Woojin Park uses the same cologne as Yukhei’s and he smells so, so sweet.

“Yukhei,” Mark sighs into Woojin's mouth and freezes. His fingers curled around Woojin’s collar loosen and he inches back back back until his back meets the wall and he can’t see Woojin’s face. He desperately wants out. He says, “I’m sorry.”

Any sane person would’ve tried to at least get over unrequited love. Mark’s no sane person.

“It’s okay,” Woojin replies. He’s off Mark’s bed in a second, shrugging back on his discarded jacket from the floor and shoots Mark a sad smile. Mark wants to feel bad so bad but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel bad at all. Woojin leaves his dorm at 3.34am and at 3.35am Mark reaches across his bed for his phone and opens the chat to Yukhei Wong.

He types in `it's mark` and doesn’t press send.

 

If Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno realise how sad and angst driven most of the recent songs Mark has been writing these days are, they don’t say anything. Actually Mark has to be thankful they don’t say most shit because Mark would’ve denied again and again and go back to clutching his phone and not pressing send.

At the two hour mark of their jamming session, Donghyuck presses a key down and Jaemin plucks a string or two and Jeno just sits back and stares and stares. Mark takes out a crumpled piece of paper ripped off from his notebook, filled with words, music notes, and tells them that he wants to try out a new song. Jeno says, “This is getting a little unhealthy.”

Mark has never whipped his head around faster than he just did.

“What is?” He says and inside he begs, _please don’t say it_.

“This,” Jeno says, widely gesturing to everything—Donghyuck on the keys, Jaemin on the bass, Mark on the mic and finally him. He twirls his drumsticks in between his fingers. “I like that you're projecting your feelings in writing because break up songs are good, right? But they’re all fucking sad, Mark.”

Mark narrows his eyes at Jeno. Punk rock asshole Jeno. “All break up songs are fucking sad, Jeno,” Mark bites back. He did not go through a break up though. Not at all. To break up, there must be something. Some love.

He didn’t have any.

“What I mean is that break up songs are sad but they don’t have to sound sad,” he points out. He stands up and sticks his drumsticks at the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m just saying this because the only time you use my drums is during the intro for a count. I like to feel a little fucking useful, alright?”

Jeno walks out of his own garage minutes later and minutes later, too, he begrudgingly reenters the garage and asks if anyone wanted drinks; his mum insisted. Three hands shoot up.

 

Mark pre-Yukhei writes about love so stupidly; he writes about the sun in someone’s eyes and the lines of someone’s smile. The sweet tangy feeling of a summer’s kiss and sticky hands grabbing your face when you kiss. What he's wrong about is _everything_ because Yukhei is the sun and it's not only the lines of his smile he admires. Yukhei gives summer before college a meaning and he would let Yukhei's stupidly sticky hands touch him _anywhere_.

Mark post-Yukhei writes about moving the fuck on and to never look back but his heart is still crushed at the bottom of Yukhei's backpack.

So Mark essentially is a liar every time he goes up on stage when Jeno's drumsticks hit. But the crowd listens and loves them and they get free drinks at the bar they perform at every Tuesday. Eventually, Mark doesn't really mind being a liar.

 

The Markers is what Mark had named them circa summer ‘18. Everyone else calls them the Four Inch Hearts. The Four Inch Hearts sounds like a tryhard band too popular to be recording their shit-sounding crap (“It isn't shit, you fuckin’ loser,” Jaemin spits.) in a room too small but hey, if Jeno's drum set could fit, everything else can. Even Donghyuck's ego.

Mark decides he shouldn't have stayed up so late last night because the dark circles around his eyes are awful. He opens the door to Jeno's store room—the one his mum had very nicely pasted egg cartons across every surface of the room—and sees Donghyuck sitting on the floor, keyboard on his lap.

“Nice makeup,” Donghyuck points out. Mark wasn't wearing any. He flips him off.

“How long till my turn?”

Donghyuck taps his chin with his finger. “I only did the chorus and the intro, so...come back in ten?”

Mark makes his way up Jeno's staircase to his bedroom. He twists the doorknob open and sees Jaemin on top of Jeno. They're kissing and kissing and the room smells like weed. He sees Jeno's hand go up Jaemin's shirt and he walks back out and down the stairs.

It tastes like nostalgia.

“I said ten,” Donghyuck says, sliding his headphones down to his neck. Mark smiles weakly and closes the door behind him.

“I know,” Mark answers and drops himself next to him. He sits cross-legged and stares at the tips of his shoes. Stained. “You knew?”

Donghyuck hums and glances at this phone's notes app. He presses a key, then another, then another. “Yeah,” he answers. He's looking everywhere but Mark. “They're good for each other.”

There's bitterness laced in his voice but Mark doesn't say anything. He isn't at a place to say anything about love anyway. He taps Donghyuck's knee.

“I'll stay here,” he says and shoots him a grin. “I'll be quiet. Promise.”

It's the first time Donghyuck plays something Mark wrote that actually portrays what he feels. It's blue and bitter. It's a broken heart and acceptance. Donghyuck sighs and so does his heart.

 

Yukhei and Mark first kissed under the bleachers at their high school football game. They were there for the fun of it all and not for their patriotism towards their school football team. The crowd cheered the same time Mark whimpered into Yukhei's mouth.

And there was a time that Mark believed in something silly like love.

Yukhei then proceeded to break his heart the weekend Mark wanted to ask Yukhei to be his boyfriend. Picture this: Yukhei, 18, at the footsteps of Mark's porch. The only light coming from the glimmering chandelier above them. Next, Mark, recently 18, and in love.

Both stand opposite each other. There are two beating hearts and both belong to Yukhei.

“Sorry,” Yukhei said and Mark's heart fell through his ribcage and rolls down towards Yukhei's feet, right next to his heel. “I can't do this anymore.”

And okay, okay, to be _fucking_ fair it wasn't Yukhei's fault what happened to them _happened_ but it was also his. But it was just as much as his as it is Yukhei's.

Yukhei shouldn't have let him kiss him. Mark shouldn’t have pulled Yukhei closer. Mark liked playing this stupid game because he was eighteen and in love and stupid. Yukhei gave him an inch and he took the yard. And more and more and more.

He should fucking get over Yukhei already.

 

Mark presses send.

 

After love, no one is the same as they were before.

Mark can’t walk past his old high school’s football field without thinking, right. Something happened here. Something that was once nice, real nice. He avoids the college quad like the goddamn plague because he’s so fucking scared he’ll see snatches of Yukhei—of his stupid hair, his stupid face, his stupid bright yellow Kanken. He can’t listen to Frank Ocean anymore, his fingers aren’t fingers anymore because they were once running through Yukhei’s hair and now they’re not.

Mark presses his palms against his cheeks.

“You’re so distant,” Donghyuck points out. They’re both lying on Mark’s bed, legs propped up over the wall and heads hanging off the bed. Their faces are red and Mark struggles out a grumble.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks and slides his hands off his face and holds them across his stomach. The fan above them whirrs loudly.

Donghyuck hums and stretches his hand over his head and his fingertips brush against the wooden floor. On Mark’s laptop is Donghyuck’s Spotify playlist on loop. He never questioned why it’s named heartsick fuck. The next song plays.

“You know,” Donghyuck says, shrugging. No, not really, Mark thinks. He doesn’t like where this is going. “Like you’re here...but at the same you’re not. Your eyes are so empty, like.” He pauses, then turns to looks at Mark, face red from all the blood rush. “It’s about Yukhei, isn’t it?”

“Stop!” Mark huffs out and sits up, frowning. Donghyuck does the same and crosses his legs. He doesn’t want to hear his stupid name again. And his head hurts. “I’m not — don’t fucking mention his name.”

“What?” This time Donghyuck’s face is red from anger. Hot boiling anger and it bubbles and bubbles, spilling over the brim. “This isn’t fucking healthy, Mark! Do something about it. Live a little. Get the fuck over him or God forbid, text the boy!” He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “It’s not fair if you’re the only one suffering here.”

“Oh, like making a whole playlist about being in love with two boys is better than my ways,” Mark snickers. Donghyuck’s face falls and Mark regrets. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Mark.” Donghyuck’s untangling his legs and flattens his feet on the floor. He stomps across the room and slams Mark’s laptop shut, a little too hard. Fuck fuck fuck. “I was trying to be a nice fucking friend.”

Mark hesitates, watching Donghyuck pick up his backpack off the floor. He tries. “Donghyuck, I didn’t—”

“Fucking save it,” he spits and it’s quickly followed by the sound of his door slammed shut. Mark takes a deep breathe and rests his forehead against the wall.

For the first time in a while, he’s completely alone.

 

Yukhei replies back `Hey mark` / `How are you!`

`not fucking well` Delete, delete, delete.` great!` Delete, delete, delete.

`i miss you` he types out and presses send. He turns his phone off and turns around in bed. He falls asleep.

 

Donghyuck doesn’t talk to Mark for a week even at their jamming session. He deserves it, so he stays silent. Jaemin slings his guitar to his back the moment Donghyuck leaves for the bathroom and shoves at Mark’s shoulder.

“What the hell, Mark?” Jaemin’s angry, eyebrows pulled together and face suddenly more shapes and lines. Harsh ones. Jeno looks between them and sighs. Jaemin prods even further. “What the hell happened between you and Hyuck? He isn’t saying shit, so you better explain.”

Jeno and Jaemin both look at him expectantly. Donghyuck could walk in any damn second. He’s in love with you two. Mark swallows.

“Nothing, Jaemin,” is what he settles with and holds onto his shoulder. Jaemin pushes hard. “Nothing big, really. Don’t worry.”

Jeno tells him nicely, “Fix it, okay?”

Mark nods and Donghyuck walks in with three cans of Spite.

 

Mark doesn’t expect a reply, really. Yukhei was the one that ended whatever (god, fuck, what did they even have?) they had, so yeah, Mark doesn’t expect a reply. He attempted to block Yukhei’s number the morning after he had sent the text but decides not in the last minute. Mostly due to the fact that he was running late for class and all thought of Yukhei gets thrown out the window.

His phone dings once at night and all thoughts of Yukhei comes crawling back up.

`I miss you too!` / `We should meet up soon?`

Mark wants to yell. He angrily types out, brows furrowed, `no yukhei` / `i miss you` and then presses send.

He's panting, staring down at the text he just sent. Underneath it reads _Read 12:12AM_. Ha.

 

It's been two weeks since The Incident and it's getting a little tense in the garage. They meet every Thursday to practice for their show at the bar and sometimes whenever just to jam. So far, Mark has only met up with them once. On Thursday.

Donghyuck snaps.

"Are you not going to fucking say sorry?"

Jeno and Jaemin are out for a bit, under a pretense of getting more snacks or whatever the fuck. He knows better. It's either they're making out at an empty parking lot or they're actually going out to buy snacks, just so Donghyuck and him could talk.

Mark gnaws on his lower lip. He’d drafted multiple texts to Donghyuck over the weeks. `shit fuck i’m so sorry hyuck pleas eplease plsae talkt to mee i miss you` "Sorry," he says and looks up. Donghyuck's still frowning. "I'm really sorry about...the other day. I shouldn't have said what I said. It was a low blow."

Donghyuck nods, crossing his arms. "It was," he says. "I was trying to be a nice friend, Mark."

Mark swallows. Mumbles, "I know."

"It hurts seeing you like that, you know. I was just trying to help."

"I know."

"Mark, look at me—" Mark does. His shoulders are less tense now. "—do you still like Yukhei?”

Mark blinks and blinks and suddenly it’s getting a little hard to see Donghyuck. Him, now a blob. A stray tear makes it way down his cheek.

“Please don’t ask me that,” he begs and takes a step back. He reaches a hand up to wipe his tears away. “I don’t—”

Donghyuck clamps his mouth shut. “Okay,” he says and takes a step forward. Then, another and another. He pulls Mark into a hug, a tight one. “It’s okay, Mark. Take all the time you need, okay? I’m always here for you.”

 

Mark writes a two paged letter to god—mostly why’d you make me like this, partly Yukhei, and a small fraction of I still love him. He crumples it in his hands and screams. He misses the dustbin by a good metre. He cries.

 

Yukhei’s reply comes a little too late. `Can we meet? Please?` / `I don’t want to do this over text`

 

What is love? According to the first result on Google it’s one of Twice’s hit title songs. Mark closes the tab and laughs. Yukhei’s message has been left unread for a good two (2) days. He still hasn’t decided if he wants to meet him or not. Maybe he should. Maybe he shouldn’t.

 

Mark comes stumbling into Jeno’s garage at 8am on a Thursday, piss drunk and scatterbrained. He keeps thinking of Yukhei Yukhei Yukhei and the heart he doesn’t have anymore, his hands, his face, his stupid goddamn face and his hair.

In the middle of the garage, an air mattress. Jeno’s leg spill out from the side, his pink converse peeking out from under the blanket. Donghyuck has his face tucked underneath Jeno’s chin and Jaemin’s back pressed against Donghyuck’s. They look so intimate and in love and Mark’s so fucking sick. The garage smells like weed and smoke. Mark grins wide, all dopey and stupid because he knows he looks stupid, and throws himself on the three of them.

Donghyuck’s first to open his eyes.

“They love me,” he says and he smiles, all dopey and stupid, too and Mark gasps. His smile grows. “Really, really. Also your breath smells like peach soju.”

“Cool,” Mark says instead and reaches out to pinch Donghyuck’s cheek. “Love you, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck laughs.

That night, they sing one of Donghyuck’s originals and almost gets kicked out from the bar. Strictly they said: NO ORIGINALS! JUST COVERS! Mark says sorry, sorry and watches Donghyuck run off, both hands holding onto his love.

 

Mark’s downed two and a half bottles of soju when he presses a man against a wall and giggles. He calls him Yukhei and misses his mouth. Yukhei’s not this short.

“Not, urm, Yukhei,” not Yukhei says and Mark peels himself off the man suddenly. It’s like he’s burnt. His hands red, his tongue tied. He blinks again and again until he makes of a face. It’s not Yukhei. His lungs burn.

“Oh, yeah,” he says and laughs dryly. He feels like fucking crying. “Sorry, shit. I’m sorry.”

But before not Yukhei could even answer, he’s stumbling back into the side of the bar where Jaemin is. Jaemin has a cup of water in his hand instead of liquor. He watches Jeno and Donghyuck from afar and only looks away when Mark grabs onto his arm.

“What?”

“I miss Yukhei,” he spits out, slurred. “I miss—I miss him. He’s tall and handsome. Dream boy. My dream boy. Kiss so good...Jaemin, I miss him.”

“Okay.” He hears Jaemin. He really does. But he sounds so far away. “Okay, Mark, you’re drunk. Wanna go home?”

He frowns. Grumbles, “Want Yukhei.”

“Not an option,” he sighs and wraps his arm around Mark. “One day, okay? One day. Christ, you've really got to sort things out with Yukhei.”

"Want Yukhei.”

“No,” he says. “Not an option.”

Suddenly his body goes limp and gravity drags him by the ankles. Down, down, down. A second later another pair of arms are around him. He hears laughter.

“Let’s go home, Mark,” Jeno says, heaving Mark out of the bar.

Mark cries in Jeno’s backseat, watching the city lights turn blurry by the second. Donghyuck’s hugging Jaemin’s bass guitar case and looking at him warily. Jeno by the passenger seat thrums his drumsticks against the dashboard. The song on Jeno’s speaker is sad. Sad in the way Mark wants to cry even harder. So he does just that.

 

Mark has his feet propped up on his desk when his phone dings. He groans and reaches out over his legs for his phone. It buzzes and buzzes and finally stops when Mark gets a hold of it. Yukhei Wong: Two (2) Unread Messages.

`Mark? I'm sorry`

 

Mark hates platitudes but it is what it is.

"Are you sure?"

Mark's shrugging his shirt on, one hand through. "Yeah," he answers. Donghyuck's looking at him like he's glass. So close to being broken. He goes through the other arm. "Donghyuck," he calls out and Donghyuck looks up, blinking. "I will be okay."

"Can I believe you?"

"Of course, you can."

"Every time you get drunk you'll cry," he points out. Mark flinches. "You know, about him. Talk to him, okay? Don't close up."

Mark finishes buttoning his shirt and flattens his palms against his chest.

"Okay," he says and tries not to feel empty. "Okay."

Mark doesn't close up. He has his hands out on the table, cool underneath his palm. Yukhei, sitting across him, has his fingers intertwined together on his lap. He smiles bitterly.

It's not like Mark doesn't know what's up with Yukhei. They still follow each other on social media and he knows Yukhei has gotten a haircut, partied like an animal, has more friends than him obviously. Yukhei has grown and he's afraid he can't say the same about himself.

"Mark," Yukhei begins and his name feels so safe. So nice. _Keep it_. "Mark, I—"

"Don't say sorry, please," he quickly cuts off. He finally gets the courage to look up and really, really look at Yukhei. His dumb face and stupid hair. His heart hurts so much. "It's okay. I understand"

A beat later, Mark opens his mouth again. He picks on a loose thread on the rip of his jeans.

"You know, Yukhei," he starts. He looks at Yukhei this time, eyes wide. "I never really got over you.

Last summer when you wanted to meet me at my house, I was, like, really excited. 'Cause I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend." Yukhei presses his lips into a thin like. Mark marches through. "I know what we had was, was _silly_. We didn't say anything about what we were, are we a thing and shit, yeah? We were just two, like, dumb teens. Haha. It's fair when you said you didn't want it anymore, I get it. You wanted more, right? And you thought I, like, wouldn't want the same."

"But you did," Yukhei says softly.

"Yeah," he chokes out and looks away. "Yukhei, I think this was a mistake."

"No," he says and stands up. For the first time in a long fucking while, Yukhei grabs his wrist. He stands up, too, and lets himself get dragged out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk. It's Friday night, so it goes without saying on how crowded the entire town was.

Mark presses himself close to Yukhei's side until they reach a park. Surprisingly empty. They sit down at one of the picnic tables.

"This isn't a mistake, Mark," Yukhei says, eyes downcast at first and then finally he looks up. The moon makes him glow a little. "Never got over you, too."

Oh. Oh. _Oh._

He continues, smiling. Mark wants to hold his hand so bad.

"The first few weeks of college I was okay. I made new friends and we partied a lot—you know, right?—but I think I did it all mostly to get over you 'cause I keep waking up feeling like shit."

"You deleted my number," Mark points out. He looks away, inspecting his fingers. "When I texted you, you asked me who I was."

Yukhei laughs. "Well, that was a front, obviously," he says and takes his phone out of his pocket. He swipes and scrolls and finally turns it over to face Mark. "See? Still Markie with the poop emoji."

"You didn't even delete our text thread."

"Oh, like you did?"

Mark punches Yukhei's arm.

"I want to…" Yukhei trails and swallows. Mark blinks. "I want to try. If you want. Do you?"

Mark's mouth is left dry. Here is Yukhei, offering back his heart and there he is, hesitant. What if. What if.

"What if," Mark mumbles. "What if things don't work out."

Yukhei finally _finally_ grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

"What's meant to be will be."

Mark smiles. He really hates platitudes.

 

Mark holds the mic steady and takes a deep breath.

Except he doesn’t sing straight away because —

Yukhei's there. He sticks out like a goddamn sore thumb from the crowd and Mark breaks into a grin seeing him wave.

 _Hey_ Yukhei mouths. _Good luck!_

Mark thinks he's dreaming. His breath gets caught in his throat the moment Jeno does a count. He raises a hand to motion for him to stop. He gets confused looks from the crowd and Donghyuck on the keyboards lowers the mic from his mouth to ask him, what the fuck, bro?

“I have something to say,” Mark says, hands gripping tight around the mic. “This song means so much to me. I didn't know why at first until I listened to it, with my own voice, I just started crying,” he pauses. Takes a deep shaky breath as he tries to find the boy again. “But deep down, I knew the reason why. I was just being stupid. I hope everyone out here with broken hearts will heal well, slowly but surely.” He turns around to look at Jeno and nods. He looks back to the crowd and says, “I want to keep this sincerely me. I still love you.”

And then he’s singing and it’s so much pain and it's so raw and he feels like he’s laying his chest out in the open for everyone to see. His chest is empty and hollow and it hurts not feeling anything anymore. He doesn’t cry when he sings about him feeling the same way. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t cry because he’s tired and he knows he deserves infinitely better than feeling like utter shit. He ends the song by backing away from the light beams to find him.

It’s easy to find Yukhei of course because Yukhei is stupidly tall and his eyes are big and shining. When Mark locks eyes with him and his heart hurts. There’s a sudden pain in his chest. Yukhei’s crying. He’s fucking crying and Mark’s quick on his feet. He hastily puts the mic back to its place and rushes off stage, muttering sorry, sorry all the way towards the back exit and heads for the main entrance.

_Please don’t leave again._

“Yukhei,” he calls out in the midst of another performer. This time it isn’t a sad fucking song like his, it’s jumpy with flashing colourful lights all over the stage. He slots himself through the crowd and it’s loud. It’s loud and sweaty and fuck, if Yukhei left.

A week since they met up, a week since Mark told him to take things slow. He wants it so bad. So so bad that he's afraid it'll break again before he knows it. Yukhei _cried_.

But Yukhei didn’t leave. He reaches one corner of the cramped venue and finds Yukhei pressed against the wall. Mark presses his lips into a thin line and slowly makes his way to him. His heart’s beating so fast and he’s never been this nervous. Not even when he laid out his chest to the public and well, to Yukhei.

“Yukhei,” Mark calls out, softer this time, and Yukhei looks up. His eyes are wide and red, from rubbing his tears aggressively probably and stares. “Hi,” he says.

Yukhei hesitates. Then, “Hello, Mark.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I, uh, tripped on a cable.”

Mark levels him with a glare and it’s stupid. It’s really stupid how it still affects Yukhei even after months because Yukhei smiles a little and shakes his head.

“Your song,” Yukhei confesses. “It’s really nice.”

The performer suddenly switches to sing a cover of a song and when the first note kicks in, they both look at each other in realisation. It’s their song.

It’s them dancing to this at three in the morning in Mark's bedroom, when they’re both too high and in love to sleep. Mark would sing this against Yukhei’s neck and laugh as Yukhei tries to sing along but he always ends up just kissing Mark’s forehead and —

“You wanna dance?” Yukhei asks, hand out like the gentleman that he is. Mark rolls his eyes and places his hand in Yukhei’s anyway.

He tried to do this many times with many Not Yukheis but it wasn’t the same. This is a Yukhei Thing he decides and presses his cheek against Yukhei’s shoulder.

“I still love you,” Mark says again. Yukhei’s hands on his waist is nice, familiar. He likes this. “Why’d you cry, Yukhei?”

Yukhei’s silent at first and it’s odd because he is anything but quiet. Yukhei’s loud and energetic and everything Mark loves and his heart hurts when he isn’t what he used to be. This is Post-Mark Yukhei, Mark reminds himself.

"You said to take things slow and a week after that you're already saying you love me," Yukhei laughs.

There's panic rushing through his veins and Mark pulls away. Shit shit. He shouldn't have—

"I love you." Yukhei says this so light and easy. "I love you, Mark, holy shit. You don't know how fuckin' ecstatic I was when I got a missed call from you. Like, I really fuckin' love you."

Mark lets out a strained noise from the back of his throat. "Then why'd you say you didn't want me anymore," he asks, voice gentle as he cups Yukhei's face. He wipes his tears with his thumb and smiles.

“People lie, Mark,” Yukhei chuckles. “Tried to get over you, you know.”

Mark smiles. So did he — with Woojin and many other Not Yukheis until Mark realises a pattern in his choice of men. Obviously he failed, having have kissed them then immediately said Yukhei's name

They had tried.

“But you failed,” Mark adds. So did he. “I fucking love you. Always.”

And then Yukhei's laughing, with an open smile that his heart fucking hurts because he misses Yukhei so much and he's never been happier with Yukhei. He cries then and looks at Mark.

“Would it be selfish, you think, to ask you back?”

Mark grins. "You've asked me already," he says.

"I know," he says. In that span of a week, they've met twice. Two dates. And all those dates always end up with Yukhei asking if Mark wants him just as much. "Just wanna make sure."

Mark doesn't want to cry because he's completely spent from crying about Yukhei. But how can he not? When the boy he loves is asking him to take him back when months ago he had tried, multiple times, to text or call Yukhei to take him back, all unsent. That he was never joking when they kissed, that what they had was real.

He lets himself cry, one last time, before nodding and pulls Yukhei into a hug. “You're such a fucking idiot,” he says and nuzzles his face into Yukhei's neck. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> um. writing this was pain. thamks for read. have a Day,


End file.
